tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3724892209429963912018-03-06T03:31:57.590-08:00The Woman with the Dead Cat in her PurseAnnahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.comBlogger197125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-80626171158376767302013-12-21T20:17:00.002-08:002013-12-21T20:17:50.828-08:00EpitravelogueWell, I made it home. Still not dead! No thanks to the ravens. My diversionary tactics worked perfectly. I sailed through security, sans corkscrew, and even had time to suck down some hooch at the airport bar. My second glass of crappy but overpriced merlot was so loaded up that I dumped it into an empty water bottle so I could take it on board and introduce it to the mile high club.<br /><br />It seemed like pure absolute zero torture at the time but now as I look back on it through the haze of retrospect, maybe it wasn't so bad. Isn't that always the way?? I learned some stuff, for one thing, and I always appreciate that. I was so sick one day that I turned on the TV. My energy gave out just as I clicked on 'Extreme Cheapskates'; have you seen this show? They had this woman on, she looked totally normal, but then she cooked a lasagna in the dishwasher WHILE IT WAS WASHING DISHES. &nbsp;It might not be so weird if she was just cooking, BUT THE SOAP!!!!!! And the lasagna was for a party; a party at which the guests had to use a candle to find the bathroom because she wouldn't let them turn the lights on. I mean, my party guests always hate me, too, but it's only because I live in a swamp. I know better than to be stingy, too. &nbsp;I actually don't think cooking in the dishwasher is all that strange, but maybe I come by it naturally. &nbsp;My dad doesn't have a dishwasher, so he recently tried to cook some sausage, noodles and broccoli in his coffee maker. I don't think it's because he's a tightwad, though. If he was he wouldn't buy clothes for statues and food. Disappointingly, the coffee maker meal was not a success, but I think he might just need a new model. So, that's one lesson: my family is not NEARLY as strange as I thought they were.<br /><br />Here's another one: you can make a candle out of used motor oil, steel wool, and an empty beer can. I would totally do it, too, if I could force myself to drink beer out of a can. That one comes courtesy of a mechanic who lives in his shop. He just sleeps in cars people bring in and bathes himself in his car wash bucket. The candles were for a blind date. Lucky for him, too; if she could see she'd know he lives in an auto shop and be out of there like a shot.<br /><br />And here's a little silver lining: I was too weak to buy neither a single pair of boots nor nary a touristy trinket. Not that the local wares are all that appealing, but the locals do push a certain kind of specialized knife. It comes with a DVD, or so the sales pitch goes. I don't know about you guys, but none of my friends or family members need a sharp implement that requires an instructional video. &nbsp;That adds up to tons of extra Christmas thrifting cash for me; I think my dad could use some new kitchen appliances. If I don't have to spend it all on antibiotics, I mean. And those stupid fines to the Department of Fish and Wildlife. Who knew ravens were so valuable?Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-78385573757372489572013-12-19T20:41:00.000-08:002013-12-19T20:41:41.253-08:00Ravens of DoomMaybe you've been wondering what's become of me. Or maybe not. Whichever, I don't care. As it happens, though, I have been working out of town. WAY out of town. And since I have been traveling I thought it would be a good idea to do some travel writing. What is that called? Travelogues? Something like that; watch out <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rick_Steves">Rick Steves</a>! &nbsp;So, hmmmmm, where to start? A good beginning is so important when it comes to good travel writing. Otherwise it would be super boring: I got on an airplane and the seat was too small, then I went to this place, and saw some stuff and ate some food. Snoresville, am I right? &nbsp;In fact I should probably just admit right here I have never read one single word of any travel writing, ever, because it is so deadly dull, and therefore have not even the slightest idea how to do it. Oh well, that never stopped me before! I'm just gonna jump right in, how bad can it be?<br /><br />First of all, the stupid TSA confiscated my corkscrew. And they didn't just take it quickly so I could be on my way. No, it was a whole ordeal. &nbsp;See, somehow, &nbsp;I have NO clue how, it had found its way into the backpack I use to tote my computer back and forth from work. &nbsp;The backpack had to go through the scanner TWICE, then they searched it by hand, STOLE my corkscrew, and then ran it through AGAIN. &nbsp;In the meantime, I was forced to stand there with my collection of two computers, iPad, and multiple phone/devices. It was very depressing to confront the fact that I should have been able to launch an array of satellites or at least hack into the FoxNews website to endorse gay marriage across the land but instead my efforts will produce nothing but a prodigious stack of questionable paperwork. &nbsp;And me without a corkscrew, sigh.<br /><br />Finally, my spirit adequately squashed, I was allowed to continue on my journey. In an airplane seat that was too small. Now, the purpose of this particular journey was to assess some disaster damage in a bunch of freezing cold and remote places. &nbsp;Places that you have to get to in teeny tiny airplanes that are wired together with walrus guts and polar bear spit. If you don't die in an icy fiery crash first, of course. &nbsp;Because I am opposed to dying in such an undignified fashion, I put the kibosh on the wings of deadly carnage and instead we evaluated damages remotely. &nbsp;From a toasty warm office that was apparently riddled with bacterial pneumonia spores. It was a really tough choice, deciding whether to plunge into the frozen tundra at high velocity or hack up blood. I went with door number two, which has worked out relatively well for me so far. I weaseled out of a boring meeting because germs! And one of my coworkers brought me salami and orange juice and kleenex because I can't leave my hotel room, because the blood will freeze in the air on the way down because it's like 12 below, and then I might slip on it and hurt myself. Also, every time I leave the room there are ravens following me. Ravens of doom. They are waiting for me to die so they can devour my bloody flesh and peck my eyes out. &nbsp;Actually, they might not even wait. Especially the big shiny one. He talks to me. Caw! Caw! Caw!<br /><br />I have to go home tomorrow, though. In an airplane seat that is too small. So I'm working on a strategy. &nbsp;I'm going to save all the hacked-up blood and use it to fashion what appears to be a bloody corpse out of pillows. This room has at least eight giant ones, they won't miss a couple. Then, when I get outside, I'm going to throw them at the ravens and make a break for it. Wish me luck! I'm leaving my new corkscrew for the maid, along with all my dirty clothes and a few books. I can't have that stuff slowing me down. If you never hear from me again, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-85556610354934282172013-12-04T18:59:00.000-08:002013-12-04T18:59:23.763-08:00Well, dammitMy head hurts. I think it might be because I brushed my teeth with beer this morning. About ninety times. What? You don't brush your teeth with beer? You probably don't live in a swamp, then. That's why. You probably live in some kind of fancy ass house where water, glorious municipality-provided chlorinated fluid of the gods, flows out of the taps. See, it's freezing here in the swamp. The pipes in the well house froze up WHILE I was in the shower this morning. I had barely gotten last night's beer rinsed off and had just soaked my head and squeezed some shampoo into my hand when the pounding hot liquid fruits of my swamp-well slowed to a trickle, then stopped completely. I twisted the knob this way and that, and looked disbelievingly at the sticky clump of Neutrogena in my hand for at least thirty seconds before I figured it out. Guess how you solve this problem? After you brush your teeth with beer for a long time, I mean- yep, you hike out into the arctic morning with a soaking wet head toting some sort of warming device FOR THE WELL HOUSE. I felt like freaking Ma Kettle, or Ma Ingalls, or Ma Joad, or whichever Ma had the most agonizing collection of suffering combined with a demoralizing lack of sufficient beer and bad hair. <br /><br />Then I had to go to work like that. Luckily I have been using this awesome deodorant made out of approximately equal parts coconut oil and baking soda mixed with a few drops of tea tree oil so I didn't stink too bad. My armpits, anyway. I'm not so sure about the rest of me, but that worked out well for our late afternoon staff meeting to develop performance goals and metrics. We don't have any right now so some people peak out with making it to work on time a couple of times a week. &nbsp;Well, that's not quite true. We HAVE some metrics but they are (U) unsatisfactory, (S) satisfactory and (E) exceptional and everyone just gets S's because if you get a U or E someone has to do extra administrative work and no one is on board for that. So now, we get to write our own, and there needs to be two levels, 'meets expectations' and 'exceeds expectations', or something like that. I wasn't really paying attention. So, for example, 'meets expectations' could be 'responds to customer inquiry' and 'exceeds expectations' could be 'gives customer correct answer 90% of the time'. &nbsp;These are not actual examples from today's meeting <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: xx-small;"><i>(these are totally actual examples from today's meeting).</i></span>&nbsp;&nbsp;Properly executed, this could work out well for me. The bar should be low enough that I can handily outperform the special snowflakes that are tardy all the time. I'm thinking of a 'meets expectations' goal of 'comes to work sufficiently hygienic when temperatures are above freezing'. Brilliant, right? Well, gotta go- I'm off to lay out tomorrow morning's beer!Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-69662984806496857262013-11-25T18:08:00.000-08:002013-11-25T18:10:28.986-08:00Hello, my friends!Look! I'm posting again! I always feel so virtuous when I put up a post. It's like having my vitamins, or shaving my legs, or getting the last stray sock off the laundry chair. &nbsp;Let's see- what's going on around here? Thanksgiving is coming soon and there's apparently been some interfamilial debate over whether squirrel is appropriate &nbsp;holiday fare or not. &nbsp;I come down pretty firmly on the 'not' side, having once eaten squirrel. &nbsp;I know I've <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2011/12/monopoly.html">written about squirrel eating before</a> but the truth is I only did it once, a really long time ago. And I didn't inhale, I swear! &nbsp;Anyway, I'm not sure how that's going to play out but I'll eat anything if I have enough wine, that's my motto! &nbsp;The weather has gotten very chilly lately, it is definitely boot weather. &nbsp;I have recently discovered that it's also the season for purchasing larger than normal sized stretchy cords. &nbsp;I found this out the hard way and I don't want to talk about it anymore, thank you very much. &nbsp;I might have to travel to an even colder place for work sometime soon, too. To a place where I hear that people routinely wear cleats to keep from slipping on the ice. I'm not sure how well that's going to work out for me. Cleats, really? I mean, sure, those are great for clawing your way to the top of the heap, if you have a pile of coworkers in your way all the time like I do and you don't want blood on your good boots. But just for walking down the street? I don't think so. <br /><br />Thanksgiving, boring! Work, boring! Let's talk about my most brilliant recent discovery! It's only the most awesome zombie/vampire repellant ever! &nbsp;Like all brilliant discoveries it happened totally by accident. See, I had to clean out the cat box, so I scooped the cat poop into a bag, then I tied the bag shut and put it outside the front door. I kept 'forgetting' to take it to the garbage, which was super annoying, until it got to be about the fourth day and I realized that the entire time that bag had been by the front door was undead-predator free! Not a single vampire or zombie! It worked for about ten days and would probably still be effective, only someone got sick of having a bag of cat poop on the front porch and threw it away. Someone who doesn't realize how valuable it was, no doubt. So now I have to just wait until I can get another bag full. In the meantime, I make the cat sleep with me with his butt pointed towards the bedroom door. &nbsp;With that problem solved, I need to figure out a way to keep the raccoons away from the chickens. &nbsp;So far they have gotten three of our chickens. Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure they are regular raccoons, not the undead kind, so the cat poop doesn't work. &nbsp;Let me know if you have any ideas! And Happy Thanksgiving! I'll be sure to keep you posted on the squirrels.Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-80987865143503301942013-11-11T18:45:00.002-08:002013-11-11T18:45:49.308-08:00DOGGAMMITI didn't want a dog. Seriously, if you'd asked me one second before I saw her if I wanted a dog, I would have said 'HELL, NO!' Then I might have punched you in the face for asking such a stupid question. Then I saw Samantha, and I wanted a dog. Not A dog, THAT dog. &nbsp;She's a beautiful, glossy gracile black lab, and belongs to a friend of a friend who needs to find a new home for her. &nbsp;I convinced myself this was a good idea, and then she came over for a sniffing session. She cheerfully and enthusiastically bounded out of the car and within .0063 seconds she had lunged and bitten Lloyd, so we had to pass. &nbsp;I mean, biting Lloyd is one thing, but we can't have her attacking the neighbor kids. Sure, they might be little assholes but if it was socially acceptable to bite little assholes my mouth would be sore and bloody all the damn time.<br /><br />Of course, the boys were heartbroken because they were SO excited about getting a dog, and now if you asked me if I wanted a dog I would probably just punch you in the face because I wouldn't know what to say, and I hate it when I don't know what to say. Also I'm a little nuts so displaced anger is one of my go-to strategies. On that note, I joined a gym today; they have a punching bag and I'm pretty excited about displacing my anger onto that. I'm not sure how well it will work but at least I can bash up my fists instead of my mouth for a while. I'll let you know how it goes if I can still type. &nbsp;I guess if my mouth isn't sore I could use my face, or I could try my toes. Really, I have a lot of body parts that aren't earning their keep on a regular basis.<br /><br />Anyway, back to this dog thing, because I'm starting to seethe again: I can't decide if I should look for a different dog or if I should just repeatedly punch myself in the face. Undoubtedly, if I look for a dog for long enough, I'll find one. And then I'll convince myself it's a good idea. And then I'll have a dog. And I might have mentioned this before, but I don't want a dog. DOGGAMMIT.<br /><br />Now it's Monday night and the boys have been cross ALL weekend. &nbsp;It's Veteran's Day, you know, so it's a LONG weekend, too. And if I wasn't so lazy I'd write an indignant post about how we stiff veterans every damn day so we can give tax breaks to Exxon, but I'm lazy. Did I mention that? So here, have a link to <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2011/11/veterans-day.html">my 2011 Veteran's Day post</a> instead. &nbsp;Interestingly, as I reread that one, I see that I was about to get some recycled cats. Perhaps I have fall/winter SAD or something that makes me want pets. And by SAD, I mean 'Stupid Ass Decisions'. &nbsp;It goes nicely with my ADD; what was I talking about? Oh yeah, the severe crossness we've had here ALL this whole LONG INTERMINABLE weekend. &nbsp;Things are starting to look up, though, as bedtime approaches. Only a few more hours and the boys will have survived by the skin of their teeth. I was going to work at home tomorrow but I'm going to work at the crack of dawn because I don't want to push my luck. &nbsp;If I'm feeling generous and have a little magically regenerated patience I might even brush my teeth first. &nbsp;I'd go now but the babysitter doesn't get here until morning. DOGGAMMIT.<br /><br />Well, toodles! When I start repeatedly taking dog's name in vain it's time to hit the wine. Have a good week, my friends!<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-51242232734232449232013-11-06T08:35:00.000-08:002013-11-10T17:10:34.235-08:00Quietly making noise<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VSp_K_ofCQo/UnEm57gDXJI/AAAAAAAAB54/aoXLXuRkPxA/s1600/DSC_0050.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-VSp_K_ofCQo/UnEm57gDXJI/AAAAAAAAB54/aoXLXuRkPxA/s320/DSC_0050.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Quietly making noise; I think that’s a Jimmy Buffett song. I would look it up but I’m writing this from my internet-free vacation. It’s sort of a handicap, this googleless existence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I can barely even remember how we used to figure things out; do you remember?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>You would have to ask someone, or go to the library. Funny, you’d think people would be a fuck of a lot smarter these days now that it’s so easy to look something up, but not so much, hmmmmm? Well, I’m not here to muse about technology and stupidity, at least not today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I was out running on the beach, and the song came into my head. Like a lemming! Not the whole song, just the phrase ‘quietly making noise’, and it took me a while to work out where it came from. I’m pretty sure it comes from the album ‘Fruitcakes’.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It’s a catchy little tune; you should check it out. The whole album is good. But I’m not here to muse about Jimmy Buffet’s vast catalog, at least not today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <!--EndFragment--><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Naturally, it was crying out to be turned into a blog post, and I started thinking about why that particular phrase was in my head. It’s because I stopped making noise. I lost my voice. It’s easy to do; I had no idea how easy. And it can be hard to find again, especially if you look in the wrong places.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>But my voice is important, and so is yours. So is everyone’s. Well, maybe not exactly EVERYONE. Sadly, I don’t get to pick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>It doesn’t have to be loud, just true to you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>But it’s good if it’s loud, too…..</div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-84928543615088020992013-11-02T18:03:00.000-07:002013-11-02T18:03:31.174-07:00Man, the olden days must have sucked<div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The power is out at my house right now, going on about hour four.&nbsp; It took me precisely 17 seconds to figure out why olden day people whipped their kids with leather straps and two by fours.&nbsp; It’s freezing and there’s no water because the well pump requires electricity.&nbsp; Fortuitously, as it turns out, my bathtub has been full of water balloons for the last week and a half, so that’s one problem solved.&nbsp; If we go more than a few hours around with here without flushing this place makes the Hanoi Hilton look like the Taj Mahal.&nbsp; Next time, though, I’m going to make the boys fill their balloons with wine.&nbsp; If I get the right swill for them it will probably clean the toilets on the way down too.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">And as luck, wretched bitch that she is, would have it, the boys just got home from a weeklong hunting trip and it looks like the filthiest, bloodiest corners of the old west and Quik-e Mart collaboratively exploded in the living room, kitchen, dining room and mud room. There is a squirrel tail on the dining room table, y’all!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">There are sheets of water and chunks of trees raining down from the sky. It’s so bad out there that I had to use the leather strap AND the lumber to get the kids out of the house. Man, the olden days must have been EXHAUSTING. My arms are going to be sore for a week, I swear. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Update, hour six:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>the generator readily powers two lamps, the fridge, the television and the phone charger, but I have been unable to configure it to supply wine or muck out the mountain of dirty clothes, food wrappers and squirrel parts. It also appears to not have an autodestruct sequence or an option to spray out chloroform.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Frankly, I’m pretty disappointed in the Honda people. I mean, generator suppliers should be aware of what sufferers of power outages REALLY need; this is just common sense.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>No wonder this place is going to hell in a handbasket; corporate America has lost touch with the people.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Update, hour nine: Power restored, generator dented with boot, minions dispatched to wine store. And all is right with the world.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <!--EndFragment--><br /><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-5734542004496861892013-10-30T08:31:00.002-07:002013-11-02T17:59:20.508-07:00Let there be lemmings<div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Hey, y’all!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I bet you thought you would NEVER hear from me again. No such luck, sucks to be you!!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I sort of wondered if you would ever hear from me again too; it has been a while since I had any ideas to write about at all. Well, I mean, I had a FEW ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Just piddly little things, really, like the one where I was thinking I could stuff footballs with wine to take to work, because people there like sports and they might not notice someone drinking from a football. Not very practical, because those things taste terrible on the outside, plus I can’t even take full credit- it was a collaboration with some of my more twisted coworkers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>But now I think I might be getting my mojo back for real! See, I took this remote vacation BY MYSELF! There was not even any internet, can you believe such a crazy thing? I couldn’t even text! I know, I wasn’t sure I would survive either, but not only did I not shrivel up into a teeny tiny dried up husk of skin and die, I had at least a jillion brand new ideas! I would go running on the beach and the notions would just cascade into my brain like little suicidal lemmings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I had to hurry back to my room and write them down before they crushed each other into a big squishy heap of brilliance!</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">It sounds pretty easy, doesn’t it? This taking a vacation by myself thing. And it would have been, too, if it hadn’t been for those darn meddling chickens. Oh, you didn’t know about the chickens? Right, I guess not, because I haven’t written anything for what feels like a million years.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>We have chickens! We started with five, and are sadly down to three, because RACCOONS. So, until we figure out a chicken sleeping solution that is raccoon-proof, they have to be locked in at night and left out in the morning. EVERY night, and EVERY morning. This, as you might suspect, completely negates the advantages to having chickens, and there are many: delicious fresh eggs, high quality poop/compost, and peaceful clucking. Not being willing to abandon the girls to take their chances with prowling predators, I scooped them up into cat carriers and transported them with their accoutrements to Grandpa’s house to get chickensat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>That sounds pretty easy, doesn’t it? HA! You might not know this, but chickens are quite wily. And fast. Really, you have to hold them with both hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>Which is fine, and not problematic at all, unless you are laying on the mud and chicken poop covered ground because you fell trying to catch one, and now you caught one only you are laying on the ground holding a chicken with both hands. I think I invented a new yoga move; I call it ‘chicken up’. I hope there’s not already one called that. I wouldn’t know because I don’t do yoga. It’s boring. Also, it hurts. If I need exercise I can just go collect chickens. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <o:OfficeDocumentSettings> <o:AllowPNG/> </o:OfficeDocumentSettings></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:WordDocument> <w:Zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:TrackMoves>false</w:TrackMoves> <w:TrackFormatting/> <w:PunctuationKerning/> <w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridHorizontalSpacing> <w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing>18 pt</w:DrawingGridVerticalSpacing> <w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayHorizontalDrawingGridEvery> <w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery>0</w:DisplayVerticalDrawingGridEvery> <w:ValidateAgainstSchemas/> <w:SaveIfXMLInvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:IgnoreMixedContent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:Compatibility> <w:BreakWrappedTables/> <w:DontGrowAutofit/> <w:DontAutofitConstrainedTables/> <w:DontVertAlignInTxbx/> </w:Compatibility> </w:WordDocument></xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:LatentStyles DefLockedState="false" LatentStyleCount="276"> </w:LatentStyles></xml><![endif]--> <!--[if gte mso 10]><style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0in 5.4pt 0in 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0in; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ascii-font-family:Cambria; mso-ascii-theme-font:minor-latin; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-theme-font:minor-fareast; mso-hansi-font-family:Cambria; mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style><![endif]--> <!--StartFragment--> <!--EndFragment--><br /><div class="MsoNormal">Finally with chickens satisfactorily collected, we set off for Grandpa’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp; </span>I mean satisfactorily to me, of course; I’m not sure the chickens would agree. I would ask them but they aren’t talking to me. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">&nbsp;</span>My car smelled like a barn for a while, but it aired out in time, and I was off to collect lemmings. The chickens are definitely easier, but the lemmings smell better. To me, I mean; I’m not sure the raccoons would agree. </div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-66081189205036323542012-04-29T14:31:00.000-07:002012-04-29T19:09:42.444-07:00Ship<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XJF84L49KNY/T51rq28WqjI/AAAAAAAAB0s/RFCS03FvcEw/s1600/photo-29.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XJF84L49KNY/T51rq28WqjI/AAAAAAAAB0s/RFCS03FvcEw/s320/photo-29.JPG" width="239" /></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I bet not all of you know the story of the ship painting, am I right? It's very large, this painting. And full of ships. Ships firing cannons at one another and burning. Also, do you think we have enough fishing poles? &nbsp;No? Oh, don't worry, that's only some of them. Anyway, back to the ship painting: it made the trek over to the new house last night. I had high hopes that it was going into the Goodwill pile, but no such luck. Since I guess it's here to stay, I thought it would be fun to revisit the story of its genesis, circa 2008/2009:</span><br /><br /><br /><h2 class="date-header" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;"> Wednesday, July 2, 2008</h2><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="4357396290773956126"></a></div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> Will someone please poke me in the eye with a sharp stick?</h3><div class="post-header" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4357396290773956126" itemprop="articleBody" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Please, I beg of you! Someone, anyone? Lloyd is buying 'art'. Yeah, yeah, yeah, blindness is no joke, blah blah blah. My apologies to all the blind people reading my oh-so-popular blog. Now, if I may continue. Lloyd and I have TOTALLY different tastes in, well, everything. We never, ever like the same furniture, housewares, decorative items, clothes or anything else. Marital fealty prevents me from fully exploring my true feelings about Lloyd's taste in art here, so let's just let Lloyd's own words speak for themselves.<br /><br />But first, a little background: Lloyd has commissioned a local artist to paint a picture of an epic naval battle, circa 1700's. He has been down at the gallery at least twice a week, giving direction: A little more tattering on the sail, please, and there's not quite enough orange in the cannon fire, and so on. The artist doesn't seem to be annoyed by this, but I guess when you are a big-shot art patron paying over a hundred smackers for a custom piece, the sky's the limit, right?<br /><br />A word about the gallery- outside, as advertising, they show paintings done from photos. The paintings remind me of the 'King of Queens' episode where Deacon and Kelly give Doug and Carrie a hideous painting of themselves (Doug and Carrie, that is) for their anniversary. Doug's teeth are huge, and Carrie's arm is freakishly misshapen. Doug and Carrie hate it so much that they stage a robbery to get rid of it.<br /><br />And now, here's Lloyd:<br /><br />"The artist used to paint in New York and he said this size painting would sell for $19,000!"&nbsp;<span style="font-style: italic;">So I guess we're getting a real bargain. I didn't know paintings were sold by the square inch.&nbsp;</span><br /><br />"I told him that it had to be just right because we're going to hang it in a place of honor and pass it down from generation to generation!"&nbsp;<span style="font-style: italic;">Forget the sharp stick; just put me out of my misery entirely.</span><br /><br />And, the absolute worst, the one that sent chills down my spine: "I'm going to get him to do another one, this one of a New England scene!"&nbsp;<span style="font-style: italic;">When I suggested maybe we get a New England scene from a New England artist, he said,</span>&nbsp;"But do you know how much that would cost?"&nbsp;<span style="font-style: italic;">Umm, no, let me get out my measuring tape and calculator and figure it out!</span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4357396290773956126" itemprop="articleBody" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /></span></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-4357396290773956126" itemprop="articleBody" style="margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"></span></span></div><h2 class="date-header" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;"> <span style="font-style: italic;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;">Sunday, July 20, 2008</span></span></h2><div style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"></span></span></div><div class="date-posts" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="6620168004820173331"></a></span></span><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> <span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"> The masterpiece has arrived</span></span></h3><div class="post-header" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-6620168004820173331" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SILlIAxIp3I/AAAAAAAAAEI/RAM6shOaYR8/s1600-h/DSC05171.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5224990443510998898" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SILlIAxIp3I/AAAAAAAAAEI/RAM6shOaYR8/s320/DSC05171.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" /></a>Lloyd picked up his painting today from the shop. I'm not sure when the big unveiling will be but I am all aquiver with anticipation. I will put up a picture as soon as possible. In the meantime, this photo is of the very alarming painting outside the gallery. Is it just me, or does the woman look like she has a combined shoulder and elbow, or shelbow, if you will?</span></span><br /><div style="clear: both; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><br /></span></span></div></div></div></div><div style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"><span style="color: #333333; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: normal;"></span></div><h2 class="date-header" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: normal;"> Monday, July 21, 2008</span></h2><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="1214233740027971459"></a><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> The moment you've all been waiting for....</h3><div class="post-header" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SIRxHjhy7_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/Exoymnq6kxo/s1600-h/DSC05179.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225425842266632178" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SIRxHjhy7_I/AAAAAAAAAEw/Exoymnq6kxo/s320/DSC05179.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" /></a><br /><br /><br />Without further ado, here is the painting. I have to say, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. It is, however, very large. And, we discovered it does not have one of the agreed-upon modifications: a third ship, smoldering and foundering in the background. I'm not sure if Lloyd plans to take it back for alterations (revisions? restroking? insertions? Not sure of the correct terminology, or if such terminology exists). Also, we do not have the necessary hardware to hang it on the wall. So for now, it has found a happy home in the laundry room, propped up by a gallon of antifreeze. Hehehehehe.<a href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SIRxUZYlKBI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nL4fHeuKOio/s1600-h/DSC05183.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5225426062881925138" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SIRxUZYlKBI/AAAAAAAAAE4/nL4fHeuKOio/s320/DSC05183.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 293px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px; width: 220px;" /></a></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1214233740027971459" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div></div></div></div></span><span style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; font-style: italic; line-height: 1.3em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: normal; line-height: normal;"><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><div class="post-footer" style="color: #333333; font-size: 12px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div></div></div></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><h2 class="date-header" style="color: #999999; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;"> Sunday, August 3, 2008</h2><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="1545328770459037548"></a><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> Sunday</h3><div class="post-header" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1545328770459037548" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU3liQBjhI/AAAAAAAAAF4/Kz3W0Rpj-Hs/s1600-h/DSC05211.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230147660249402898" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU3liQBjhI/AAAAAAAAAF4/Kz3W0Rpj-Hs/s320/DSC05211.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" /></a><br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU3l69jrvI/AAAAAAAAAGA/lBlMcvFvfT8/s1600-h/DSC05212.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230147666882834162" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU3l69jrvI/AAAAAAAAAGA/lBlMcvFvfT8/s320/DSC05212.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" /></a><br />Here are some photos of Shane playing in a box that came in the mail from Grandma the other day. Weston went to Vacation Bible School this morning at&nbsp;<a href="http://www.missionbaptist.com/" style="color: #336699;">church</a>. He had a good time, though he didn't want to go beforehand. Lloyd stopped on the way home to check on his painting. It has the third ship burning in the background now, but the smoke is not quite right; it should be drifting with the wind and not going straight up into the sky. I'm pretty sure I could have learned some Korean swear words today if I had been paying attention, but they were hard to make out through the gritting-teeth smile.<br /><a href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU4lQsJkHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/chH50-X2cI0/s1600-h/DSC05218.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230148755047157874" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SJU4lQsJkHI/AAAAAAAAAGI/chH50-X2cI0/s320/DSC05218.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px;" /></a><br /><div style="clear: both; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div></div></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><h2 class="date-header" style="color: #999999; font-size: 14px; font-weight: normal; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 1.5em;"> Wednesday, October 1, 2008</h2><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="1632676688544238152"></a><br /><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> The Bad Penny Turns Up, and it has a friend</h3></div></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: normal;"><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-1632676688544238152" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;">Well, it was inevitable. You may recall that Lloyd had taken his&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/08/sunday.html" style="color: #336699;">painting</a>&nbsp;back to the shop for modifications. If you're unfamiliar with the painting saga, you can read about it&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/will-someone-please-poke-in-my-eye-with.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>,&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/masterpiece-has-arrived.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/moment-youve-all-been-waiting-for.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>. Yesterday, we had a sitter so we went downtown for lunch. After a delicious meal of hot shredded beef soup,&nbsp;<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bibimbap" style="color: #336699;">bibimbap</a>&nbsp;and kimchi dumplings, Lloyd said, 'Hey! Let's go check on my painting!' I died a little inside, but I pasted a smile on my face and off we went to the 'Blue Boy Gallery'. The painting was done, and Lloyd was very pleased with it. The smoke is apparently just right now. I asked him how he was going to bring it home, because it's quite large (and valuable!) and we were on foot. He said, 'Oh, I'm just going to wait until the other one is done and get them at the same time." My head spun, I blacked out just a little, and everything started moving in slow motion. I understand that's a common reaction to shocking and traumatic incidents, like car accidents or when you fall through the ceiling. Not that I would know. Anyway, I said, 'Whaaaaaa?', and Lloyd pointed to an easel where a small canvas rested. Clearly visible were the outlines of the two ships, and it was obvious even in my discombobulation that there will soon be another, similar painting released into an unprepared world. If you're getting a little nervous, I totally understand, but you can rest easy. It turns out that his mother admired the painting, and so he is having a similar, smaller one done for her. Whew.</div></div></div></div></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #333333; line-height: normal;"><div class="date-posts"><div class="post-outer"><div class="post hentry" itemscope="itemscope" itemtype="http://schema.org/BlogPosting" style="margin-bottom: 1.5em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 1.5em;"><div style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"><a href="http://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=372489220942996391" name="7038862873315785076"></a></div><h3 class="post-title entry-title" itemprop="name" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 18px; font-weight: bold; line-height: 1.1em; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 0px; padding-left: 0px; padding-right: 0px; padding-top: 0px;"> Cue the Spooky Music</h3><div class="post-header" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><div class="post-header-line-1" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"></div></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7038862873315785076" itemprop="articleBody" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SZ_DrGLNqfI/AAAAAAAAAaE/WOJ__Ow022I/s1600-h/DSC00628.JPG" style="color: #336699;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305174031225170418" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_umNEOv8V1YM/SZ_DrGLNqfI/AAAAAAAAAaE/WOJ__Ow022I/s320/DSC00628.JPG" style="border-bottom-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-bottom-style: solid; border-bottom-width: 1px; border-left-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-left-style: solid; border-left-width: 1px; border-right-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-right-style: solid; border-right-width: 1px; border-top-color: rgb(239, 239, 239); border-top-style: solid; border-top-width: 1px; cursor: pointer; float: left; height: 240px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: 0pt; margin-right: 10px; margin-top: 0pt; padding-bottom: 4px; padding-left: 4px; padding-right: 4px; padding-top: 4px; width: 320px;" /></a><br />Well, my friends, the day has come. The paintings are back from the shop, propped up in the bedroom, awaiting the unwrapping. They don't look so bad with that pretty paper covering them up, do they? If only the paper could remain... But no, I mustn't give myself false hope. Fear not, I do have options: I can always throw myself to the&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2009/02/longest-eleven-minutes-of-my-life.html" style="color: #336699;">badgers</a>.<br /><br />If you are not familiar with the sad saga of the paintings, you can read about it&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/will-someone-please-poke-in-my-eye-with.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>,&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/masterpiece-has-arrived.html" style="color: #336699;">here,</a><br /><a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/07/moment-youve-all-been-waiting-for.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>&nbsp;and&nbsp;<a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/10/bad-penny-turns-up-and-it-has-friend.html" style="color: #336699;">here</a>. Then you can send your condolences to storiesfromkorea@gmail.com.</div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7038862873315785076" itemprop="articleBody" style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></div><div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-7038862873315785076" itemprop="articleBody" style="line-height: 1.3em; margin-bottom: 0.75em; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So! That's the epic beginning of the infamous painting. I'm still plotting its ending. The Goodwill thing didn't work out for me, SO FAR, but I'm a resourceful girl.....</span></div></div></div></div></span><div style="font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px;"></div><div style="color: #333333; font-family: Georgia, Times, serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 1.3em;"></div></div></div></div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-359380380541408892012-04-21T11:39:00.001-07:002012-04-21T11:39:36.076-07:00House<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Heheheheheheeheheh..... that's the sound of me laughing hysterically, in order to keep from crumpling up into a fetal ball and whimpering until I fall asleep in a sodden, tear-soaked heap. Remember last week, when <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/04/move.html">Lloyd was going to move us</a> while I was out of town? Well, he did. Sort of. &nbsp;When I came home, I took one look and then had an overwhelming urge to light out for Mexico and consume mucho, mucho cervesas, but sadly all the cars were jammed full of garbage bags, boxes and miscellaneous flotsam and jetsam. No beers, either. Truly, it was..... well, here, see for yourself:&nbsp;</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8CGQyyJqXo/T5L0YVzudMI/AAAAAAAAB0I/mdhFyLgb6pU/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-R8CGQyyJqXo/T5L0YVzudMI/AAAAAAAAB0I/mdhFyLgb6pU/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFkne0JaXvw/T5L0TDlHd1I/AAAAAAAAB0A/sPAQ2fWih6k/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wFkne0JaXvw/T5L0TDlHd1I/AAAAAAAAB0A/sPAQ2fWih6k/s400/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZD_smitkfUg/T5L0RhZSHLI/AAAAAAAABz4/Y88IVL3_S4g/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZD_smitkfUg/T5L0RhZSHLI/AAAAAAAABz4/Y88IVL3_S4g/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mm7Mw_4WefM/T5L0Z8zMyhI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/8PxTvthgUaU/s1600/photo+2.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mm7Mw_4WefM/T5L0Z8zMyhI/AAAAAAAAB0Q/8PxTvthgUaU/s400/photo+2.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">So, yeah. It's pretty daunting. The garages at both the old house and the new house are full, there is a huge pile of junk awaiting a dump run, even more that needs to go to Goodwill, and nothing is where it belongs. For example, it's obvious that weapons, antlers and pilot crap all belong in the garage, right?<b>&nbsp;</b>But funny, that's not where they are. Hmmmmmm.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">On the plus side, the outside is awesome, and I haven't even been to the swamp yet. For the first time, <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2009/09/korean-pots.html">my kimchi pots</a> have a proper home. Oh, if you click on that link to read about when I bought my pots, just ignore the extraneous story about how I accidentally got trapped in the men's room in a Korean discount store, okay? Thanks in advance.</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Here are some pictures of the outside. The garden is going to be in the front where the blueberries are; that's the spot that gets the most light. There are also empty beds all along the front. The dirt doesn't look super good but luckily there is a big pile of old rabbit poop next to the garage. Seriously, how fantastic is this place?!?!?!? You can almost NEVER find a house that comes with rabbit poop.&nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Weston really wants to get some chickens right this very second but I'm pretty sure I'm not quite prepared for that. I have to go out of town again soon, though, and I never know what I'm going to find when I come back. Hell, we might have emus or something. &nbsp;</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">I'm a little concerned about the french drain that runs the entire length of the uphill side of the house, but oh well, we need to get rid of a bunch more useless stuff anyway, and flooding is as good a method as any. &nbsp;</span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Have a good weekend, my friends, I am heading out to work in the garden!</span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C1yeFmJBIUw/T5L0BpGMgcI/AAAAAAAABzY/1-yIar_rB78/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C1yeFmJBIUw/T5L0BpGMgcI/AAAAAAAABzY/1-yIar_rB78/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="298" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Huckleberry in front yard</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tzWdYjHO52E/T5L0EW9yInI/AAAAAAAABzk/aVP6jYJfjD0/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tzWdYjHO52E/T5L0EW9yInI/AAAAAAAABzk/aVP6jYJfjD0/s400/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Storage building, blueberry bushes, and wellhouse</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--yKVhn-aEdY/T5LznWUe4ZI/AAAAAAAABzQ/eu8JO_IZloQ/s1600/photo-27.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--yKVhn-aEdY/T5LznWUe4ZI/AAAAAAAABzQ/eu8JO_IZloQ/s400/photo-27.jpg" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Kimchi pots</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hZt5G844Frk/T5L0PdmZL_I/AAAAAAAABzw/QxG_J6mhB3Y/s1600/photo+1.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hZt5G844Frk/T5L0PdmZL_I/AAAAAAAABzw/QxG_J6mhB3Y/s400/photo+1.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Backyard with salmonberries</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><br /></span><br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qRZ8sIOvnZs/T5L0bZWKfpI/AAAAAAAAB0Y/-oJIh4Ym9W0/s1600/photo+3.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qRZ8sIOvnZs/T5L0bZWKfpI/AAAAAAAAB0Y/-oJIh4Ym9W0/s400/photo+3.JPG" width="400" /></span></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">View from <strike>wine drinking spot</strike> deck</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-11305215130056272882012-04-14T17:11:00.007-07:002012-04-15T20:37:15.306-07:00Move<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:'times new roman';"><i>****Updated: in retrospect, I feel the tiniest bit sorry and guilty for what might be construed by some as Lloyd mocking. By 'some', I mean Lloyd, of course. Not quite bad enough to take this post down, only bad enough to add this disclaimer, and to state that I did, in fact, probably agree to undertake the moving methods described in an unflattering manner below. I might even have helped. But I was under duress.****</i></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vC1g6NjsC3k/T4oSYyhChRI/AAAAAAAABzE/1Z925ZCJhx0/s400/photo%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731413692868887826" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><br /></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Yep, we've been in the same house for a full eighteen months now, time to move! I counted them up today, we've moved ten times in a little less than ten years. This time is a little different, of course- it's the first time we will have to pack ourselves. By 'we', I mean Lloyd, because I will be working out of town. See the picture up top? It's part of the garage. I stopped going in there, as you may recall, some time ago when I noticed Lloyd had the <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2009/10/finally.html">corpse-stashing cooler</a>, some hefty bags, a mop and a case of bleach staged by the door. I sucked it up today, though, so I could illustrate what a daunting task the move is going to be. The first thing I noticed was the pile of firewood the size of a small sports stadium; it's much larger than it used to be. I mean, I like wood as much as the next girl, but there's a limit, am I right?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">So, okay, now it's Sunday night. I started this early in the weekend and had big plans to finish up a nice long post about the new house and how I didn't see it first, which gave my sister conniptions but all my military spouse friends will know that you get to see the new house before it's picked out only about half the time, which in my experience is about the same ratio at which you get your husband to be present at the births of your children. But let's face it, I'm well into the second glass of wine and the posts don't write themselves, even though it seems like it sometimes, so I'm going to finish it up combat style:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">The new house is awesome. It has about a million huckleberry, salmonberry and blackberry bushes, its own stream and swamp, ample hoses and limited carpet, among many other fine features. </span></li></ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I can't decide if I feel sorrier for Lloyd, or for myself. He has to move however many millions of pounds of crap we have, but I have to live with the aftermath. I'm thinking of the time he drove my car into the back of a U-Haul and then tossed a crib on top of it for a move from Florida to Louisiana and scraped up both sides AND the top. Oh, and also of the time he put my ridiculously-expensive-purchased-foolishly -for-a-first-child leather glider in the back of his truck and didn't secure it so it rocked back and forth until it rocked right out onto the road, and then tried to throw it away. Oh, sorry, is my bitter showing? And I changed my mind. I DEFINITELY feel sorrier for me. </span></li></ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Don't worry about me, though, I have all my important junk stuffed in plastic bags in my car. I am not even kidding. I could live comfortably for quite some time.</span></li></ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">We had a nice picnic at Grandpa's house over the weekend. Well, nice to everyone except Shane, who informed me that it was the worst bad picnic ever. I'm not sure, but I think it was because Aunt Jennifer called a premature halt to the dirt clod throwing. Doesn't he look TRAUMATIZED? You'd almost think he was about to move.</span></li></ul><ul><li><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I'll keep you posted; I'm pretty sure I can blog from the car. Have a good week, my friends!</span></li></ul><div><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-vC1g6NjsC3k/T4oSYyhChRI/AAAAAAAABzE/1Z925ZCJhx0/s1600/photo%2B2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><br /></a></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZW2pwdG2rs/T4oSYkpDh-I/AAAAAAAABy8/QoqxfI7GlN4/s400/photo%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5731413689144412130" />Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-61042046711948020552012-04-08T13:41:00.011-07:002012-04-08T19:39:11.712-07:00Yellow<div><i>****WARNING for Helen: immediately below this warning is a picture of my foot. It probably won't <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/10/blog-post.html">traumatize you as much as this one</a>, but you are likely to suffer moderate discomfort. Please click here for <a href="http://www.hilarity-in-shoes.com/">Hilarity in Shoes</a>, which I think you will like much better than feet****</i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><i><br /></i></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gHOVoEZ9eqw/T4ItuZXzeyI/AAAAAAAAByw/oKzJFYsGkbc/s1600/photo-26.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gHOVoEZ9eqw/T4ItuZXzeyI/AAAAAAAAByw/oKzJFYsGkbc/s400/photo-26.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5729191951076653858" /></a><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br />Well, I guess the Easter bunny can live to terrify small children for another year. I caved in and bought the yellow coat this morning, so there will be no need to skin his yellow fur off for a cape. Wait, if you didn't read <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/04/easter.html">yesterday's post</a>, you will probably have NO IDEA what I'm talking about, even though it makes PERFECT SENSE. So, let me explain. No, there is no time. Let me sum up. See, I had this brilliant plan to..... Oh, NEVER MIND. It's a long story, and trust me, the scheme was genius beyond words. In any case, it ends like this: I have a beautiful new yellow coat. So beautiful that I painted my toenails to match it. I do like sandal season but sadly, it appears that boot season may be behind me. Bittersweet, I know, and as a result I have been thinking ALL DAY about my motorcycle boots that I lost in the <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2008/08/sunday-updates.html">great Osan mold epidemic of '08.</a> Oh, those would have been SO AWESOME with my new yellow coat. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Also, I noticed another problem caused by the fantastic new coat: it's sort of like when you put in a new kitchen floor, and then you realize how ratty your cabinets and countertops are. Then you replace those, and start noticing the chips in your china and how your pans are all scratched up and how you don't have NEARLY enough wine. No? Maybe it's just me. In the case of the coat, I decided it would look stunning with navy, and I don't have any navy. And maybe some blue and green toned scarves. And a crisp white shirt, and DEFINITELY some new purses. And probably a lot of new open-toed shoes. So you know what happens next, right? Yep, I am for sure taking that sucker back tomorrow. Okay, fine, I am totally just kidding. Wanna go thrifting with me? I will be there every day for AT LEAST the next three weeks. Maybe I will even find some new motorcycle boots!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Well, that's all for now, I have to go rest up for all that shopping. Have a good week, my friends, wherever you are!</span></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-26885220882175022062012-04-07T09:12:00.009-07:002012-04-07T19:59:08.538-07:00Easter<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UZYpKsLyCn8/T4C6RSG5PFI/AAAAAAAABxI/VmuWX5Qt4yI/s400/photo%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728783532096568402" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Happy Easter! Oh, I know Easter is not actually until tomorrow. I have just never felt especially bound by convention, and besides, my sister did all the work and she said we were having Easter today. If she hadn't done all the work, we wouldn't have even HAD Easter. I told that to some people in the office the other day and they looked at me as if I had two heads, both with horns. I didn't realize not wanting to tell lies to your kids about some giant imaginary rabbit and then bust your ass to hide eggs full of sugar and chemicals for them to ingest was so controversial. But I guess it is.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">So, we went to <a href="http://cmikeathom.blogspot.com/">Grandpa's</a> house, he cooked a ham, <a href="http://www.jennifermcneely.com/Jennifer_McNeely/Home.html">Jennifer</a> made all the kids lovely baskets, <a href="http://www.stefangulassa.com/Stefan/Home.html">Stefan</a> hid about 4,372 eggs and a great time was had by all. Even the dogs and the garden statues were all decked out for the occasion. You'll note Ranger has a yellow Easter bunny attached to his collar. Do you guys think the Easter bunny really is yellow? I'm not a huge fan of holidays in general, especially ones that create work for me, and I've been coveting that snappy lemon-colored coat, you know. But I could go with a fur cape, too. The ears could attach around the front in a jaunty bow, what do you think? I've seen pink and green Easter bunnies, too, though, and those aren't really my colors so much. At least this season. Oooh, that gives me an idea for winter, too: can't you just see me in a deep red velvet? With white trim!</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">The kids especially enjoyed playing in the dirt pile in the driveway- they got out bowls and dumped in some pond water to make concrete. Something about the Easter bunny sleeping with the fishes, I dunno. You don't think my cape will be ruined if he gets waterlogged, do you? One thing I really require in a garment is that it can be easily laundered. I suppose he has to shower, what with all that hopping and egg-delivering, so you'd think it could go in the wash. In any event, all four of the kids got all muddy, marked up the garbage bins with dirty handprints to trick Grandpa into thinking there were aliens there, dug holes in the lawn, made piles to look like poop and threw dirt clods at each other. Then Jennifer came out and gave me the stinkeye for letting them get so dirty. I keep thinking she'll stop letting me watch them one of these days but no luck so far. It was BARELY questionable activity, anyway, not like they were chasing each other with sharp tools. At least not for very long. Then Stefan finally got sick of the mess and gave them an involuntary hosing down; they threw fits and we all went home. About the usual holiday outing, all things considered.</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">On the brown sweater front, I have been shopping multiple times with very limited success. I went to Goodwill today and while THE sweater continues to elude me, I did see two things that I dropped off the week before, which always amuses me. I'm not sure why, except that I am apparently very easily entertained. </span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">And that's the Easter report from here; I hope you all have a great weekend!</span></div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl2SEp6CS3s/T4C726B97-I/AAAAAAAAByM/ks9Z7M61aVs/s1600/photo%2B1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_CYNej45ahs/T4C6Rrr66zI/AAAAAAAABxU/gl7YvYk2HiE/s400/photo%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728783538962754354" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PcICiZd-aUQ/T4C6SK1pMJI/AAAAAAAABxs/BQbzazaddq4/s1600/photo%2B4.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-PcICiZd-aUQ/T4C6SK1pMJI/AAAAAAAABxs/BQbzazaddq4/s400/photo%2B4.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728783547325034642" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-nl2SEp6CS3s/T4C726B97-I/AAAAAAAAByM/ks9Z7M61aVs/s400/photo%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728785277980110818" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-a49t6lWW82k/T4C73GdTwuI/AAAAAAAAByY/t59v_gALtxg/s400/photo%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728785281316012770" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color:#0000ee;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><br /></span></span></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-78793786031346768072012-04-01T12:59:00.005-07:002012-04-01T14:07:31.552-07:00April<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Haha, fooled you! This isn't a real post. I WOULD write a real post but ***insert whiny excuse here***. Also, I can't find a brown sweater that suits my exacting specifications and I can think of little else. I keep expecting the universe to drop one in my lap as reparations for the scarf episode but no such luck so far. In fact, the desired sweater has so thoroughly crowded everything else out of my head that I successfully resisted purchasing multiple cunning coats while sweater shopping, if you can believe such a crazy thing. Even a delicious-looking lemon-yellow one with front pockets and..... soft, smooth, mahogany-colored....wait, what was I talking about? Oh yeah, instead of an actual post, the latest and greatest:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">-Shane has decided he is going to be both a jet pilot AND a swordfighter. Thanks a lot, LLOYD.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">-The boys are working on a secret club called hmmmm hmmmm doodle. Oops, I hope I didn't blow their cover. I would make a terrible secret agent. I'm not really clear on the full scope of this effort but there is going to be fish. I'm a little scared, because these big bowls of water with rocks and small dishes in them are appearing all over the house.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">-Jennifer has some <a href="http://thewayofthewoo.blogspot.com/2012/03/in-between-storms-morning-out.html">beautiful spring pictures up at her blog</a>, check them out. I WOULD have put up some beautiful spring pictures only <strike>insert whiny excuse here</strike> <strike>I am lazy as hell</strike> <strike>I am too obsessed with my imaginary super soft, rich chocolaty-brown sweater to even consider taking pictures or doing anything else productive in any way</strike> I don't have any.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">And, that's all the news from here for today; let me know if the universe accidentally gives you my sweater! I'll take that yellow coat, too, if you don't want it. Have a good week!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-47097248131205409282012-03-24T15:35:00.010-07:002012-03-26T20:38:14.130-07:00Beautiful<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RoV7UH0y5-c/T25NMHD_TDI/AAAAAAAABw4/MkPX84Wudv4/s1600/photo-25.jpg"></a></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 299px; height: 400px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723596270365576466" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_j8MSOwrCA0/T25Me6TkDRI/AAAAAAAABws/lWFY16FvNIQ/s400/photo%2B5.JPG" /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Wow, is it a beautiful day! The boys are outside wreaking havoc in their bare feet; it's hard to believe that this was the scene outside my office two days ago:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;" class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 400px; height: 299px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5723597046884027442" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-RoV7UH0y5-c/T25NMHD_TDI/AAAAAAAABw4/MkPX84Wudv4/s400/photo-25.jpg" /></span></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;" class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span">That is the smoker's shelter outside the office, collapsed under three or four inches of wet snow. Boy, you have never seen such a crabby bunch of tokers, I'm not kidding. But that's all in the past, right? And all that nasty ridiculously late snow is gone. The sun is shining, the dandelions are blooming, and the grass is lush and tasty:</span></span></div><div><span style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline;" class="Apple-style-span"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></span></div><div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><iframe allowFullScreen='true' webkitallowfullscreen='true' mozallowfullscreen='true' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxL82EoMsZvwxhXT_B-2c_o7CeTpOM-5l8CpbzSr-o60jaSoGiEE23DXsj_gZ1NfKzX3kmsANvMCtI1fSSd' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' FRAMEBORDER='0' /></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I think we can all see what's wrong with this video, don't you? I was shocked, I tell you, SHOCKED, to learn that Lloyd does not allow the boys to eat grass. I KNOW! What is he thinking? I put a lot of effort into encouraging them to be self-reliant; that really cuts down on the number of cheese quesadillas and peanut butter sandwiches I have to throw at them. Mostly my efforts consist of ignoring their ever more insistent requests for food until they give up and scrounge something for themselves. And really, they are excellent foragers. They know all the edible weeds in the yard and are <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2011/06/chocolate-covered-critters.html">pretty agile at snapping up bugs</a>. The less food we need, the more cash available for wine! Besides, a little grass never hurt anyone, right? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">He probably also doesn't let them jump out of trees, but I didn't want to ask. What I don't know doesn't hurt me, I always say! Not captured on video:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Weston (approximately 10 feet up the apple tree in his bare feet): Can I jump from here?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Me: I don't know, can you?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Weston: Tell me if it's safe!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Me: You'll have to decide for yourself. I don't know if I'd do it, myself, from that high up with no shoes on.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Weston: Will I die?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Me: No.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Weston: But is it safe?</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Shane: It's safe! Do it!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">Weston: No! <i>(climbs down gingerly)</i></span></div><div><i><span class="Apple-style-span"><br /></span></i></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span">I think I might be taking this self-reliance thing a little too far, though. When I came out of the shower this morning, I discovered Shane, naked, plunging the toilet and Weston on the computer, shopping for turtles. They're starting to scare me a little, I don't mind saying. I'm pretty sure there's no going back now, though. All I can do is hang on for the ride. And stock up on wine. Okay, fine, I would do that anyway. WHATEVER. </span></div><div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-5035897797987208292012-03-18T11:24:00.013-07:002012-03-19T03:25:48.506-07:00Returned<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv2DS_lReVM/T2Yro9vm0XI/AAAAAAAABwc/lzspxO8Zx-g/s1600/photo-24.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sv2DS_lReVM/T2Yro9vm0XI/AAAAAAAABwc/lzspxO8Zx-g/s400/photo-24.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721308359389794674" /></a>Remember <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/03/scarfu.html">when my scarf disappeared</a>? And I was super pissed off at the universe? I am not kidding, I looked EVERYWHERE for that thing. I looked especially hard in my closet, because I figured that was the most likely place for it to be, unless it was purloined to <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/01/robot-kitty-army.html">construct a robot kitty army</a> or similar (also fairly likely). I looked on the shelves, under my purses, in all the corners. I even crawled around with a flashlight in case it slipped down behind the shoes or under my possibly-too-large collection of coats. So you can imagine my surprise this morning when I found it folded on a shelf IN MY CLOSET, almost in plain sight. I took a picture of it in case the universe decides to yank my chain again and I need to put up flyers. Notice how the back and front are different? I love that about it because I can dial down the orange if I want. I tried to take a picture of myself wearing it so you know what it looks like on. You know, so if it disappears again and you see someone wearing it you can kick some scarf-stealing ass. Unfortunately, I am not very good at taking pictures of myself, apparently, as I made approximately eight thousand attempts and ended up with not one publishable photo for my trouble. So you will just have to use your imagination when you are trying to decide whether you should attack someone to get my scarf back for me. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Anyway, you might surmise that the scarf was in my closet all along and I just didn't see it, but you would be dead wrong. The scarf was not in the closet. It disappeared and then it came back. I don't know why, and I don't especially care. My friend Sarah thinks I earned some karma points after the poker chips yesterday and the spaghetti mess this morning. See, I dropped a giant steaming plate of pasta and sauce as I was heating up leftovers for breakfast. It landed all over the microwave, the stove, the floor and me. The clean-up was pretty daunting; I was thinking of just moving out. To a clothing-free community. So maybe she's right, because that WAS pretty bad and definitely deserving of some redistribution of spiritual wealth. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">The scarf is back, and that's good, but I like to plan ahead a little. Just a little, mind you, mostly I'm a flying-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. At least until my pants rip and I crash and burn in a bloody heap, but that almost never happens. Right now, though, I'm thinking I should stock up on scarves so I always have a couple of spares for the next time the universe gets all smart with me. This one came from Qatar, so if you know someone at The Deid that <strike>wants to go</strike> can tolerate scarf shopping for me, let me know!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">And on an unrelated note, I have a minor correction and also a comment about yesterday's post. I have been informed that what I described as a hole to China in the lawn is actually a hole to Africa. Presumably it makes a sharp turn down there somewhere, perhaps around the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mohorovi%C4%8Di%C4%87_discontinuity">Mohorovicic Discontinuity</a>. And finally, I feel I was unfairly accused of whining in the comments, when in fact I was not whining at all, but merely stating facts. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">That's all, my friends; catch you next week! If you have time, check out <a href="http://doravilleoregon.blogspot.com/">Doraville</a> for some new entries from <a href="http://www.lulu.com/shop/search.ep?type=&amp;keyWords=carol+mcneely&amp;x=0&amp;y=0&amp;sitesearch=lulu.com&amp;q=">my mother's book</a>. My beloved <a href="http://aguidetopracticalparenting.blogspot.com/">Helen</a> has been working like crazy posting them; isn't she the best?!?!?!!? Of course, if you know Helen, you already know that. But a reminder doesn't hurt- love you, Helen!<br /></span><br /></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-25224966176934566662012-03-17T16:51:00.007-07:002012-03-17T19:23:52.082-07:00St. Patrick's Day<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9aZoGNMIdEU/T2Ujha6AkTI/AAAAAAAABwQ/XALdzC2E7pI/s1600/photo-22.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9aZoGNMIdEU/T2Ujha6AkTI/AAAAAAAABwQ/XALdzC2E7pI/s400/photo-22.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5721017958709367090" /></a>Happy St. Patrick's Day! I just <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saint_Patrick's_Day">looked it up</a>; I had absolutely no idea that it was a Christian holiday, though I suppose the St. part might have been kind of a giveaway. At least St. Patrick doesn't sound like too much of an asshole, unlike <a href="http://www.catholic.org/saints/stindex.php">some of those other jerks</a>. In any case, I'm a fan of any saint that properly appreciates beer and drunken nakedness. I've never understood why we need a special day for that; usually I just call it 'Thursday'.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">We are having a pretty standard weekend here, bizarre holiday or no. The boys are out cutting up sticks in the back yard after having collected a plastic container full of innocent unsuspecting spiders, constructed some sort of robot out of a flashlight, broken toys, nails and fishing line, and dug a hole to China in the lawn. There is also a small pile of charred debris on the back porch; I'm not even going to ASK about that, as I'm pretty sure I don't want to know. Additionally, I am deeply regretting the day in December when I optimistically purchased a thrift store set of approximately nine billion poker chips in a spinning holder for a Christmas present for them. I was thinking of how nicely it would supplement their math education, of course. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I'm sure you know where this is going. Those cursed plastic tokens are all over the house, and Shane will be asking for Jack and Coke and plotting a road trip to Vegas any day now. On the other hand, Weston's most recent math lesson consisted of some algebra problems that are probably not addressed in most first grade curricula. Most likely the poker chips were instrumental, and now he can develop some brilliant casino scam for Shane to execute. Then I'm taking my cut right off the top and going to the spa. With wine. At least that's what I tell myself every time I get another one of those damn things jammed into my foot. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Hmmmm, what else? Oh, yes. There is a <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pyrrharctia_isabella">woolly bear caterpillar</a> loose in the house. Apparently, it was released from the container it lives in for a little exercise, and Shane was supposed to be 'babysitting' it to keep it from getting lost but fell down on the job. Also, there are traps set around the living room. The traps consist of balls wrapped in blankets. See, you step on the blanket, not realizing there is a ball in there and you slip and fall. It's surprisingly effective. Geez, forget the spa and just bring on the wine, baby! And make it snappy, because now Shane is planning to acquire four baby cheetahs. He's a resourceful little thing, too, I wouldn't rule it out.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Have a good weekend, my friends! I was planning to lounge on the couch with wine but now I'm scared of accidentally falling asleep and getting cheetah-mauled. I'm definitely in the market for a good plan B. I can't cross the living room so I might be stuck here at the computer. I'll see you on Facebook as soon as I finish my wine delivery order.</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-82530241047280395632012-03-10T12:09:00.005-08:002012-03-10T12:57:00.208-08:00Wrap-up<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">So! I didn't write all week, sorry! I have been working extra super duper hard lately and it takes some getting used to. I can barely lift up my wine glass and text all my friends at the end of the day, seriously. Last night I got the most awesome series of wrong number texts ever:</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">1. please control your girlfriend</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">2. (attached recording of loud drunk obnoxious woman)</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">3. IM SO SORRY</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">4. This is the wrong number!</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I was so worn out I didn't even write back, can you believe that? Because that would be some high quality entertainment right there. The possibilities were endless and it was almost physically painful to have to let the opportunity pass me by. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I have high hopes for next week, though. In fact, I'm planning to get my skates out of the trunk of my car for the first time <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2011/08/on-roll.html">since I fell down on the path outside my office at lunch time</a> and had to hide my arm from the safety nerds for fear they would make me fill out a form. I'm working in a different office for a while and there isn't a good place to throw rocks, so I figure vigorous skating might suffice for getting out some of my aggression. Or knocking me unconscious. Either one works for me.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Let's see, what else? Oh, <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/02/jennifer.html">my sister Jennifer</a> has a piece in a new show that opens on March 23rd. You can read about it and <a href="http://thewayofthewoo.blogspot.com/2012/03/exhibit-at-roq-la-rue-march-23rd.html">see her piece on her blog</a>. And, my friend Leah has a <a href="http://girlfriendology.com/blog/5062/finding-“home”-when-your-address-changes-girlfriend-guru-leah-downs/">new post on her guest blog</a> at <a href="http://girlfriendology.com/">girlfriendology.com</a>. It ends with a quote from me so check it out! I feel very clever and famous, thanks, Leah! </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">On the book front, I am reading '<a href="http://scottoline.com/Books/husband.html">Why my Third Husband Will be a Dog</a>' by <a href="http://scottoline.com/">Lisa Scottoline</a>. I think I picked it up at Goodwill because it has the best title ever and I am not disappointed with it. It's a collection of mostly funny essays; definitely recommended. I also recently read <a href="http://www.lisabloom.com/lisas-book-think/">'Think'</a> by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lisa_Bloom">Lisa Bloom</a>; I might have written about it before. I liked almost the whole thing except for one chapter where I thought she was totally out to lunch. Too bad I can't remember what the issue was. Anyway, good book, give it a read if you get a chance. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">That's the weekly report; I'll try to be a little more prolific in the future. Have a good weekend, y'all!</span></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-84341685637905003102012-03-04T15:11:00.010-08:002012-03-04T17:22:34.058-08:00SCARFU<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I am pretty sure I have had a tragic SNAFU with my favorite scarf, making, naturally, a SCARFU. I'm not totally positive because I haven't finished tossing the boys' room but it appears that I might have accidentally given the best scarf ever to the Goodwill. Somewhat surprisingly, this has never happened to me before, at least as far as I can recall. Perhaps the universe has decided it's time for the scarf to have a new home, and I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'm picky about scarves, so it can't be easily replaced, but I've often heard that the universe knows what it's doing even if it doesn't meet with my approval. I don't believe this, of course, but the fact remains that my scarf is gone and I can either stomp my feet and cry, or go Goodwilling for a new one. I guess we all know the right answer to that one. And if YOU are out thrifting and it looks like the universe has decided that a super soft black, brown and orange leaf/paisley patterned pashmina needs to go home with you, you can just bring it right back to me, got it? Because I'm not done with it, and I don't give a rat's ass what the universe says. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Moving on, because more scarf talk is just going to vex me, I got a couple of interesting comments on my <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/03/first-aid.html">post about the first aid kit/dangerous unicorn</a> of the other day that I would like to address. First, I was forced to choose a fierce animal persona at work, not at home. Apparently that wasn't quite clear, but if it had happened at home it wouldn't even have merited a mention. Sadly, I can't post the majority of the conversation, though I would dearly love to. It was highly amusing and enlightening but has high potential for getting me outed. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">And, secondly, someone who shall remain nameless thinks I should have just shut up about the first aid kit because.... oh, never mind, I'm not going to try to paraphrase. Here is the direct quote: <span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; color: rgb(34, 34, 34); "> <i>"</i><i>if you can make such a commotion about one band-aid--how busy are you really?? Either that or you have totally gone over the edge with too much work/stress in your life. Or, maybe that is just how things work there and you are certain you weren't aggravating the situation. I am just saying...... Maybe this is a time when you should have used the mantra "...don't sweat the small stuff..."" </i></span>Well, nameless commenter, as it happens, it really wasn't about one band-aid, but more about preventing a multitude of toe stabbings. Although, perhaps, there might be the tiniest kernel of truth in the part where I should just shut my gob at work. But then I wouldn't have so much to post about, now would I? </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Remember <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/02/tooth-fairy-better-not-screw-me-over.html">when I got my tiara</a>? I do, that was such an awesome day. So awesome that I bought myself a magic wand to go with it. Well, gotta go, I'm going to go see if I can whomp myself up a new scarf.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><i>***updated to add: I have finished my search of the boys' room. No scarf, but I did find a life-sized glow-in-the-dark skeleton, three apple cores, a pair of pliers and fourteen stuffed cats.</i></span></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-27663708079648009352012-03-02T20:16:00.009-08:002012-03-03T09:49:51.144-08:00Caution: DANGEROUS UNICORN<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygQX39vxU_A/T1GmESFgR0I/AAAAAAAABwE/tPugTs3FIX8/s1600/photo-21.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ygQX39vxU_A/T1GmESFgR0I/AAAAAAAABwE/tPugTs3FIX8/s400/photo-21.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5715531994614482754" /></a><br />Holy roadkill, people. You would not believe the day at work I just had. I feel like I got run over by a steamroller and then scraped up with a pitchfork, tossed into an incinerator and dumped at a landfill by the Pentagon. It started out okay, until I had a little accident and my finger started bleeding. That's all. Just a tiny little cut that started an avalanche of crazy.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I have this problem with the bandages at my office. The truth is, I'm kind of a menace and I frequently need minor medical attention, so I'm a connoisseur of adhesive bandages. We have first aid kits on the wall in multiple locations but I'm sorry to report that the bandages are often missing and always substandard. And I must point out that I am well-versed in opening the first aid kit, retrieving what I need, and then successfully latching it and walking away with minimal trauma. You can imagine my delight, then, when I spotted a brand new first aid kit affixed to the wall this morning. I unlatched it so fast your head would spin, eager to check out the new bandages, only to cry in dismay as the supplies tumbled down onto the floor. In fact, if I had been wearing open-toed shoes, I might have suffered an injury from the baby delivering/tracheotomy scissors. Naturally I never wear open-toed shoes, even though I have the most awesome sea green toenail polish on right now. I WOULD wear open-toed shoes, only I can barely keep from tripping over my own feet when I'm wearing sensible boots. NOT RELEVANT. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Because I am a kind-hearted person, my first inclination was to fix this problem so it wouldn't happen to anyone else. After I punched my whiteboard, I mean, and the guy that hung up a first aid kit that was meant to lay flat. I went to talk to him about how we needed to either put the thing somewhere else, or put a note on it so people knew not to open it while it was on the wall. Shockingly, he looked at me like I was the stupidest thing to ever walk the earth on two legs and said that I should have KNOWN that I needed to take it off the wall before I opened it. So I canvassed the office. Every single person that I asked, with one notable exception, agreed that I was right and he was grievously wrong. WRONG, WRONG, WRONG. If a first aid kit hangs on the wall, it is reasonable and logical to assume it can be opened ON THE WALL. So I told him to shut up and put the note on the first aid kit.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Then all hell broke loose. One of my pollees mentioned the dispute to the facilities manager, who hit the roof. The first aid kit is unapproved, unauthorized, unmapped, cannot be hung on the wall and was requisitioned improperly. Now the first aid kit guy hates me and I still can't get a damn bandage. And that was all before lunchtime. I don't even have the energy right now to write about the afternoon, when I was forced to choose a fierce animal to be. I went for a unicorn with a big stabby horn and then someone called me a <a href="http://www.amazon.com/My-Little-Pony-Unicorn-Whistle/dp/B000RSM49K">My Little Pony</a>. I wish I was making this up. Lucky for me my <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Little-Pony-Crystal-Rainbow-Castle/dp/B000EPFESY">dream castle</a> has wine AND margaritas on tap. Come on over if you want, but watch out for the horn. It's sharp and did I mention I'm a little dangerous? It could get bloody if I start swinging that thing around and bandages are hard to come by these days. I better put a sign up.</span></div><div><div><br /></div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-80654218617318648232012-02-27T19:50:00.007-08:002012-02-27T21:05:09.470-08:00Fork!<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">So, how was YOUR day? I am getting mixed reports from all my friends. One reports that her teenager locked his keys in his running car for the second day in a row, her dog chewed up her phone, and her own car wouldn't start. Another friend, on the other hand, enjoyed a close-up view of a bunch of otters playing in the wild. </span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">As for me, hmmmmmm......... my day at work had its usual ups and downs. Trust me, you don't want to hear about them. When I got home, I discovered that Weston can multiply two three digit numbers together and Shane can do front walkovers. Then I had to go to the <a href="http://womanwithadeadcat.blogspot.com/2012/01/wet.html">dreaded swimming lessons</a>, followed by a stop at the store for wine and various other necessities. Sadly, my shopping skills were severely degraded because I was doing what I like to call multi-tasking but what you might call gossiping or chitchatting. In fact, I was busily receiving the all-important daily reports about poodles and otters from my pals and as a result I neglected to bring home the most important bag: the one with the wine and breakfasting supplies for my two small children. One can't go without wine, now can one? Well, maybe another one can, but not this one. In any case, I had to trek back to the store, most definitely a forkable moment.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';">Oh, wait, I bet you don't know about the fork rating system yet. <a href="http://girlfriendology.com/blog/4940/on-surviving-fork-worthy-days-helping-a-girlfriend-who%E2%80%99s-having-one-leah-downs-classifies-bad-days/">You will, though, because everyone definitely needs to read about it</a>. It was invented by Leah, one of my most stunning, brilliant and funny friends from Korea. She is writing a new guest blog at <a href="http://girlfriendology.com/">girlfriendology.com</a>, so <a href="http://girlfriendology.com/blog/4940/on-surviving-fork-worthy-days-helping-a-girlfriend-who%E2%80%99s-having-one-leah-downs-classifies-bad-days/">please go check it out; you won't be sorry</a>! Comments would be greatly appreciated, so let her know what you think. Maybe even share your own fork story! She also has some fantastic advice for when your friends are having those fork-worthy days. It might surprise you, or not, to know that she highly recommends chocolates and margaritas. You can adapt her system to your own needs, though. For example, say your friend goes shopping and accidentally leaves her wine at the store. I'm pretty sure you know how to help her. Want to come over?? Please? And don't forget the chocolates! Good night, my friends, I hope your day was great, wherever you are!</span><br /></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><br /></div></div></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-51387751199225434812012-02-24T16:47:00.014-08:002012-02-24T20:51:59.819-08:00Home<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-btuNIKP72xI/T0hCDRxPWLI/AAAAAAAABv4/klYKKEqQugo/s1600/photo%2B4.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a></span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chWHGNpEQCs/T0gxLWvUK7I/AAAAAAAABuY/5OleBMfdgbo/s400/photo%2B4.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712870198471830450" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px; " /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8SyXRfebA3Y/T0gxMG4zWLI/AAAAAAAABuw/ltgKMX-SDuU/s400/photo%2B3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712870211396524210" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 299px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Okay, okay, no more crocus pictures! FINE. But sometimes the devil you know is better than the one you don't, right? Or so I've heard. Anyway, we are home from the beach. It was the usual collection of sand, pop rocks, frigid water, wine, bingo, arguments, running, rocket launching, howling, shopping, peeing on the beach and trashy television. I'll leave it to you to sort out the kid activities from the canine fun from the adult pursuits. I bet you won't get it right, either, but it doesn't really matter, now does it? Because we're home and what goes on at the beach stays at the beach. And that's all I have to say about THAT.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">On the way home, we stopped at <a href="http://doravilleoregon.blogspot.com/">Doraville</a>. As you may know, <a href="http://www.worldclimate.com/cgi-bin/data.pl?ref=N46W123+2200+352371C">Doraville</a> is what my mother's grandfather, Josef, named his homestead, after his wife, Dora. Josef spent years clearing trees to build his house. The picture on top is of an apple tree located at the original orchard near where the house stood, and the second one is the view down the hill from near where the house was. When Josef first claimed the land, it was thick with old growth fir that he cleared by hand. He was quite the writer, Josef was, leaving us, among other efforts, years of journals detailing his exploits. One of my favorite stories is <a href="http://doravilleoregon.blogspot.com/2011/11/working-homestead-by-josef-hackenberg.html">this one about the winter of 1887 when he was nearly killed by giant trees crashing to the ground in hurricane force winds</a>.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">Perhaps slightly ironically, then, the homestead is now my uncle's sustainable tree farm. While we were there, they were logging a stand of fifteen year old trees with a super cool machine that clips them off near the ground, strips off the limbs, and lays them down, ready to be placed smartly into a self-loading log truck. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-btuNIKP72xI/T0hCDRxPWLI/AAAAAAAABv4/klYKKEqQugo/s400/photo%2B4.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712888751396444338" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I thought the boys would like the tree clipper; because who doesn't love diesel powered equipment? I have no idea what's it's really called, but I think tree clipper is pretty suitable, so that's its name from now on until I die. We watched it for a little while, and then the boys ran off to the true attraction on the farm: thick, sticky red-brown mud. Seriously, that stuff is nasty. I wouldn't even let them in the van, and you know my standards for car cleanliness are pretty low. Plus the van was already full of the remnants of all the questionable beach activities noted above, so you'd think a person with <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2009/03/ajimaphobia.html">substandards</a> like mine might feel that a little mud wouldn't hurt anything. But you would be wrong; that's how bad it is. I knew before I let them play in it, of course, because I spent almost every summer of my childhood there, along with many, many weekends, and I was often coated in the stuff myself. I don't like to stifle their creativity, though, and feel strongly that a willingness to get filthy is an admirable trait that will serve them well. Still don't want it in the car, though!</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">So I made them strip down and roll around in the wet grass and wear trash bags the rest of the way home. I figure that's good for them, too, because coming from Josef's family, they are definitely meant to be country boys and there's not always a hose or even a rusty cattle water trough when you need to wipe the muck off, am I right? Oh yes, I'm a country girl, you didn't know that? As long as the country has wine and a thrift store, I'm good. But I have to admit, it's good to be home to the 'burbs where there's a Starbucks and an eco-friendly dry cleaner on every corner. Have a good weekend, my friends! I'll be doing laundry and picking caked-on red brown clay out of little tiny crevices. And drinking wine.</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e6zxJhabTKQ/T0gyCkSPw7I/AAAAAAAABvg/997IPacChVU/s1600/photo%2B2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-e6zxJhabTKQ/T0gyCkSPw7I/AAAAAAAABvg/997IPacChVU/s400/photo%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712871147000808370" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5qxtxMQN6MY/T0gyCZ3T9GI/AAAAAAAABvU/p6E3q9Fk4G0/s1600/photo%2B1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5qxtxMQN6MY/T0gyCZ3T9GI/AAAAAAAABvU/p6E3q9Fk4G0/s400/photo%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712871144203482210" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x8ucA4N6MRA/T0gxNKLJJ1I/AAAAAAAABvI/5GibwQAhhic/s1600/photo%2B5.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-x8ucA4N6MRA/T0gxNKLJJ1I/AAAAAAAABvI/5GibwQAhhic/s400/photo%2B5.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712870229458626386" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fleSTqwg1Pg/T0gxMn5TqzI/AAAAAAAABu8/LBNsMrWLfJk/s1600/photo%2B2.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-fleSTqwg1Pg/T0gxMn5TqzI/AAAAAAAABu8/LBNsMrWLfJk/s400/photo%2B2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712870220257012530" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8SyXRfebA3Y/T0gxMG4zWLI/AAAAAAAABuw/ltgKMX-SDuU/s1600/photo%2B3.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTmB2ib2jwE/T0gxL2v7rcI/AAAAAAAABuk/bgIqa-8KhoQ/s1600/photo%2B1.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 299px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xTmB2ib2jwE/T0gxL2v7rcI/AAAAAAAABuk/bgIqa-8KhoQ/s400/photo%2B1.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712870207064354242" /></a><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); "><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YpZ5uCrXoVU/T0gzInJwkxI/AAAAAAAABvs/pTG34TUGvhg/s400/photo%2B3.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712872350361359122" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 299px; height: 400px; " /></span></div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-chWHGNpEQCs/T0gxLWvUK7I/AAAAAAAABuY/5OleBMfdgbo/s1600/photo%2B4.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"></a>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-56451548674743323462012-02-23T12:45:00.001-08:002012-02-23T12:45:32.252-08:00Crocii<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njyqcw0TsdA/T0albBBiwFI/AAAAAAAABto/3uDqM53QImU/s1600/photo%2B1-732253.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njyqcw0TsdA/T0albBBiwFI/AAAAAAAABto/3uDqM53QImU/s320/photo%2B1-732253.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712435060916011090" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lDeRfvDReRo/T0albtLnoTI/AAAAAAAABt0/0aAam_7FgKU/s1600/photo%2B2-734169.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lDeRfvDReRo/T0albtLnoTI/AAAAAAAABt0/0aAam_7FgKU/s320/photo%2B2-734169.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712435072769433906" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2c4hYXe7DsI/T0alccs0GaI/AAAAAAAABuA/M5QIToW71IU/s1600/photo%2B3-737576.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-2c4hYXe7DsI/T0alccs0GaI/AAAAAAAABuA/M5QIToW71IU/s320/photo%2B3-737576.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712435085525129634" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-to6QjDukhdA/T0alctLE3II/AAAAAAAABuM/oDrc_BD_pwE/s1600/photo%2B4-738512.JPG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-to6QjDukhdA/T0alctLE3II/AAAAAAAABuM/oDrc_BD_pwE/s320/photo%2B4-738512.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712435089947024514" /></a></p>Are you guys sick of my crocus pictures yet? I swear, I am obsessed with those things. They are growing next to the sidewalk and I have been down there three times trying to get the picture I am imagining in my head. No such luck so far, and I even sprawled out on my stomach on the icy concrete to shoot them head on. That was super fun but at least no one threw any beer bottles at me. I hate it when people throw empties. <p>Next time I will post some pictures of something else, I promise. I have some nice ones of piles of kelp and dendritic sand patterns, very cool. I hope you are all having a great week!Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-63317207599300161852012-02-22T19:32:00.000-08:002012-02-22T19:33:52.573-08:00Crocus Under Rock<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVy-BHGPRL4/T0WzoQVEgSI/AAAAAAAABtc/zJdx-IfW7pw/s1600/photo-732574.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QVy-BHGPRL4/T0WzoQVEgSI/AAAAAAAABtc/zJdx-IfW7pw/s320/photo-732574.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5712169206548824354" /></a></p>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-372489220942996391.post-10358577221201437612012-02-19T17:10:00.000-08:002012-02-19T17:15:18.804-08:00Jennifer was Right About the Pot Smoking Mr. Rogers Goodwill<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnTHoVqqgzM/T0Ba43OwUrI/AAAAAAAABtA/mkBWunMgq8o/s1600/pants.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 299px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnTHoVqqgzM/T0Ba43OwUrI/AAAAAAAABtA/mkBWunMgq8o/s400/pants.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5710664260450800306" /></a>Geez, I hate it when she's right; it just makes her bossier next time. I gave the Edmonds Goodwill a thorough going over, and it definitely did not make my list of favorites. I would go there if I lived nearby but even <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Captain_Kangaroo">Captain Kangaroo </a>on LSD wouldn't make it worth the long trip. See the pants? I rest my case. Also, it was pretty small. One thing I did like was that the dressing room doors are unlocked so you don't have to get someone to let you in. I despise that about most Goodwills and have never understood why they are so concerned about shoplifting. It's not like they're going to go broke and have to report a loss to the shareholders if someone steals a $6.99 sweater. Or maybe they're concerned about Mr. Rogers toking up in there? I dunno, but it annoys the hell out of me.</span><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">They had a good selection of reading glasses, so I snapped up a couple of pairs. I go through those things pretty quickly and recently lost my last pair. They must be somewhere in my office, but I cleaned it up last week and didn't see them. I don't actually NEED reading glasses, you know, but I think they make me look smart. <a href="http://storiesfromkorea.blogspot.com/2009/11/eye-can-read.html">Well, okay, that's a lie</a>. But I do find them to be multi-purpose, and pretty handy for meetings when I am trying to pretend I'm paying attention but am instead exchanging snarky messages with my equally inattentive friends.</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">And as if that's not enough excitement for one weekend, check out what my dad gave me in the most recent batch of junk he's cleaning out of his house:</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-kMXGnolM9aA/T0Gcal_6NkI/AAAAAAAABtQ/DEpQOQek6hE/s400/wwadcwelfare.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5711017783173199426" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 304px; " /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">I regret to report that my graduating class was quite large, and that the vote was nearly unanimous. My parents were as pleased and proud as you might imagine, though I note they DID save the thing.</span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;"><br /></span></span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="-webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'times new roman';font-size:130%;">That's the Sunday report, friends, I hope you all have a wonderful President's Day and a good week!</span></span></div>Annahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16826519378969014991noreply@blogger.com0